Coffeeborne
by DaydreamingCoffeeEnthusiast
Summary: "We are born of the coffee, made man by the coffee, undone by the coffee; Fear the cold coffee." The middle-aged man, calling himself Kestrel Harvest and sitting in a rocking chair, told Summer Rose with a sombre expression. Yep, she definitely misplaced her sanity somewhere on her way to Beacon. It was the only way she could explain why she ended up in this nightmare instead.


Summer was going to Beacon Academy.

She could hardly believe it. This was the day. The day she had worked her ass off back home on Patch for. The one day which would mark the beginning of her hero's journey. And she had even managed to get in at age sixteen, one year earlier than the rest.

HA, take that you non-believers who wrote her becoming a huntress off as nothing more than a pipedream. How you liked them apples now?!

Summer's inner moment of victory was cut short by a yawn which escaped her lips. Crud. Yeah, there was something she had forgotten. Last night she had been too excited to get even a wink of sleep. Summer paid the price for that now in form of drowsiness, sleepiness and even more drowsiness.

She did not want to be known as the girl who fell asleep on the flight to one of the most exciting chapters of a huntress' life. Nope, not going to happen. Summer already had too many embarrassing moments back home. She refused to let her reputation in Beacon where no one knew of her past mishaps be tarnished. She refused!

There was only one solution. Summer had to somehow get caffeine into her system. Problem was, she was not a big fan of coffee. It was much too bitter for her taste. Coke or some other caffeinated soda was the way to go.

Fortunately, it did not take Summer long to find the soda machines. Unfortunately, they were out of order. All of them. How that could happen, Summer did not know, but she was sure someone up there was currently busy laughing at her.

… She had to suck it up and drink coffee in the end, didn't she?

With a sigh escaping her lips Summer dragged her reluctant body towards the lone coffee machine in the back of the room. It was an old machine. Antic, even. She briefly wondered if the thing even worked and if the liquid coming out of it was even something she could drink without killing herself.

It did not even have the option for latte or anything with milk in it. And there was no milk cartoon to add milk yourself standing beside it, either! Or sugar! Which meant Summer had to drink the coffee pure, without being able to add anything to lessen the blow the bitter drink would, with no doubt, give her.

The brunette stared down deeply into the black liquid. Her eyes squinted. Under normal circumstances, she would not even get close to this bitter tongue burner her father had been so fond of, but desperate times called for desperate measures and there was nothing else here to help Summer fight against the drowsiness.

She decided to take it like medicine. Pressing the rim of the cup to her lips and pinching her nose with the hand not holding the cup, Summer took a moment to compose herself before throwing her head back and drinking the entire cup in one go.

Immediately afterwards, Summer realized that had been a terrible idea.

The next minute she spent gagging and gasping for air. Mother of Grimm, this stuff was even nastier than the coffee her father had given her to try back home. The hell made liquid did not just burn Summer's mouth and throat. No, no, that would have been humane in comparison. It was more akin to having acid being poured down her gullet.

Oh brothers, why did she think drinking coffee was a good idea? The pain. The pain!

A wave of dizziness and nausea hit her, and she had to lean against the wall to keep herself upright. Her heart beat a thousand times a minute, pounding away and filling her entire chest with pain. A bass heavy droning in her ears overshadowed everything else. Summer's vision became blurrier and blurrier with each passing second which in themselves felt like an eternity.

Slowly and with heavy effort Summer staggered through the hallway. Someone. She had to find someone. Anyone. Summer had to get help and get it quickly. Her field of vision grew narrower and narrower, her muscles weaker and weaker.

Something was horribly wrong. Where the airship once was filled with life with all the aspiring hunters on their way to Beacon just like herself, now it was completely empty. Even the shadows seemed to fade away. Panic filled Summer's core and prompted her to quicken her haste.

A useless endeavour. Everywhere she went, only emptiness greeted her. When the last strength left in her was spent her legs gave out, but Summer was already unconscious before she hit the floor.

* * *

Summer woke up slowly. Her mind held a strange grogginess. Something tickled her nostrils, prompting her to roll on her back. Slowly, she opened her eyes. What greeted her was a sky filled with lightish brown clouds.

Propping herself up on her elbows, the young girl looked around. Confusion blanketed her mind because this place she woke up in was certainly not the airship to Beacon. It was a small island floating in the clouds. There was no better way to describe it.

Summer herself was sitting on a smallish field of grass, which would explain the tickling of her nose earlier. To the left of the field of grass was a path lined with old coffee machines of all things leading up a small hill.

On top of it was an old looking building, an old coffee shop judging from the huge decorative coffee bean on top of the one-story building. What kind of ludicrous place did she end up in?

After a short inner debate Summer decided to try and go up the path along the coffee machines and to the coffee shop. A building usually was a good place to search for useful things. Like information, other people or water to get rid of the terrible aftertaste left in her mouth from the hell brew Summer had had the displeasure to taste.

Her feet carried Summer up the path and to the front door of the coffee shop. The entire thing looked abandoned. Lifting her head up Summer read the faded letters on the sign above the door. Bean Here. Most likely the name of this shop.

… Well, no use standing around out here. Collecting all the courage Summer looked if the door was unlocked and when it was, walked through and into the shop.

The first impression Summer got from this place could be summed up with the word 'vintage'. A lot of polished and old wooden furniture and there even was a jukebox in the back of one corner. It did not play anything at the moment, but the old machine looked well cared for and ready to go at any moment.

And back in the other corner beside it was… a middle-aged man sitting in a rocking chair of all things who was regarding her with friendly steel grey eyes. He shot her a welcoming smile. "Greetings, young one."

"Hello…"

"Ah, but where are my manners?", the strange man brought a hand to his forehead before offering the same hand to her. "My name is Kestrel Harvest, the first barista."

Was this guy for real? What was a 'first barista'? Why did he have a coffee shop on a lone island in the clouds, no bigger than a square mile? What was going on?

Slowly Summer walked towards him and, once she was standing in front of him, took the offered hand, shaking it despite all her instincts screaming at her to hightail it out of this place. "Nice to meet you, I think. My name is Summer Rose. Huntress-in-training."

"A huntress-in-training.", he laughed jovially. "That makes things easier."

Summer leaned back. "Why does that make things easier?"

"Why, you ask you silly goose.", hey, she took offense to that! "A huntress-in-training knows how to fight. Tis a quality which is highly helpful where you will be going."

"Beacon Academy?", maybe this was one last test Summer had to pass before she was allowed to attend Beacon? To see how much psychological stress she could endure?

"No, not Beacon.", he denied. "Vale. But not the Vale you remember, I'm afraid."

What did that even mean?

he gestured towards the table closest to them. "Please, take a seat. You must be famished. What kind of cake do you prefer?"

"Chocolate.", Summer answered while sitting down at the table. Under normal circumstances she would not have just readily accepted food offered by a suspicious stranger, but Summer was not able to think straight at the moment. Right now, she only wanted to rest. "And a glass of water, please."

"Of course. Please wait a moment.", he stood up. It did not take long before a slice of what had to be one of the most beautiful chocolate cakes alongside a glass of water was placed in front of her. The mere sight made her mouth water and Summer wasted no time with picking up the fork and beginning to eat after emptying the glass of water to get rid of the aftertaste from the coffee.

"You said that it would not be the Vale I remember. What did you mean with that?", Summer asked after having eaten half the cake. Mr Harvest had already settled down in his rocking chair once more, though he had pulled it to the opposite side of the table she was now seated at.

"Exactly what it sounds like. Don't worry and don't think too hard about it for now, my dear."

No, she definitely would think hard about it! "What exactly is going on?"

Mr. Harvest regarded her with a grave expression. "You have awoken, my dear. The prophecy has been fulfilled."

"The prophecy?"

"The prophecy!", as if to praise something he threw his hands in the air. "Your arrival was foreseen."

"Huh?"

"It is written on the holy saucer.", he lowered his hands and somehow managed to remain serious despite the ludicrous thing he had just said. "The prophecy states the following:"

Mr. Harvest cleared his throat.

 _"When the coffee threatens to run cold,_  
 _and those under its sway turn bold,_  
 _a figure in white will break the mould,_  
 _and forever the foul brew will lose its hold."_

Yeah, Summer really should follow her instincts and hightail it out of here. There was crazy and then there was _crazy_. The old man definitely fit the latter more. Summer wolfed down the rest of the cake in a matter of a second before setting down the empty plate.

"Mr Harvest, thanks for the cake but I should go."

He frowned at her. "You think to leave this place so soon?"

Yes. "NO, no. I just have this thing I have to do. This really important thing. Very important."

"… We are born of the coffee, made man by the coffee, undone by the coffee; Fear the cold coffee.", he recited. To Summer, it sounded like it came straight out of a pamphlet from one of those batshit insane sects. That settled it. He definitely was a loony. "You have made a pact, my dear. One which cannot be annulled."

"… That's nice and all but I really need to go now.", Summer stood up and with sure steps walked out of the coffee shop and down the path, past all those old vintage coffee makers, over the grass field and towards the edge. Mr Harvest, who most likely had figured out her intentions, had followed her.

"If I were you, I would not do tha-"

Summer chose to ignore him and, without any hesitation, jumped off the island's edge and down into the sea of clouds. Her body fell and fell as the wind whipped through her hair. For the first few minutes it was exciting, but after ten it really had become more boring than anything.

Then she saw something. A roundish dark spot which grew larger and larger. That was a good sign, wasn't it? Hope filled her soul as the spot grew larger and larger. Finally, she broke through the clouds…

And plummeted straight towards a rather familiar island floating in the clouds. She could not help the scream from escaping, neither could she prevent her extremities from needlessly flailing around. Her fall was abruptly stopped as her face was planted straight into the soft grass of one of the fields.

"Welcome back.", Mr. Harvest's chuckle entered her ears. A groan was the only immediate response he got from her. "I told you it was a bad idea."

Summer lifted her head up and spat out the grass and dirt which had managed to get into her mouth. "So, I take it I can't leave."

"Yes, until your mission is complete you won't be able to return to the dream."

"And what is this mission?"

"Find the origin of the foul brew, uncover its secrets and break the nightmare which shrouds these lands."

"… you know what? Fine. FINE!", Summer shouted, her nerves quickly coming to an end. "Just point me in the right direction. Is it some convenience store?"

Again, he chuckled.

"What is so funny?!"

"Tell me, young one, where is your weapon?"

Where her weapon was, he asked. Of course, it was right here…

For the first time Summer actually realized that she was without any weapon. It must have been left behind on the airship to Beacon when she somehow was transported to this place. Play it off nonchalantly, Summer, nonchalantly!

"Why would I need a weapon when all I am doing is looking for coffee?"

"Silly girl!", Mr. Harvest karate chopped her on the head. "The foul brew has spread throughout Vale, befogged the citizens' minds and transformed them into the most monstrous of beasts."

"Coffee zombies?", Summer held her head with tears in her eyes. Damn, this middle-aged man was strong! "Are you talking about coffee zombies?"

"You'll see.", no, please, tell this girl who apparently had to put her life on the line more! It was her life and this Summer here would very much like to keep it. And her face. Not having her face ripped off by coffee zombies would be lovely, as well. She was only sixteen, damnit!

… the fact that Summer readily accepted the existence of coffee zombies of all things should have clued her in about how her mental state was slowly deteriorating at a steady rate.

"Follow me and I shall give you a weapon."

Begrudgingly Summer did as she was told and followed the first barista up the path, into the coffee shop and to one of the storage rooms. The sight which greeted her once she walked through the doorframe and into said storage room filled her with happiness.

The walls and racks were lined with weapons. Name a weapon and it would be displayed there. Scythes, swords of varying lengths, rifles, pistols, war axes, polearms. The list went on and on and on. Under normal circumstances she would have probably spent hours here, staring at the assorted weapons in wonder.

As Summer was lost in her own world, moving from weapon to weapon and inspecting each and every nook and cranny of them, Mr Harvest was also rummaging through some shelf in the backend of the room. It took him a couple of minutes to find what he searched for, a couple of minutes filled with quiet curses and the clanking of metal objects being moved around.

"Aha!", Mr. Harvest suddenly exclaimed and pulled something out of the shelf. Summer, always the curious one, stopped in the middle of inspecting a particular cool broadsword, put it back where she found it and walked over to the middle-aged man.

Said middle-aged man turned around and handed her the thing he found with a blank and somewhat grave expression.

"This shall be your weapon. Take it and slay all which resides in your path."

It was a kettle.

Summer could only stare at him incredulously. "A kettle? You expect me to fight with a kettle?!"

"It is an ancient and powerful artefact, a relic of an era long forgotten."

" _IT IS A KETTLE!_ ", the young girl waved the supposedly ancient and powerful relic around in front of his face.

"Yes, to even give you such a mighty weapon right at the start; I am most gracious indeed, yes I am."

Summer was at a loss of words. There was not anything she could say to get through to him. At least nothing she could think of.

"Got you!", her thoughts and ever-growing despair were broken by the loud exclamation and the following hearty laughter. Summer could only stare at the man in front of her with dull eyes, not understanding what was happening.

"Huh?"

"I was only pulling your leg, you silly trusty goose. Of course this kettle is no weapon.", another laugh escaped him. "How ridiculous would that be? This is no dumb comedy/crack story you have found yourself in."

…Was this guy for real?!

Taking the kettle out of her now in anger twitching fingers he placed it back on the shelf he took it from. His chuckles did not stop for the next couple of seconds, drilling themselves into her ear channels and irritating the hell out of her.

Deep breaths, Summer, deep breaths.

While the brunette was preoccupied with restraining herself and not killing the middle-aged man in front of her with one of the spoons lying about, said man grabbed a sheathed red machete and a pistol still in its holster and held them out towards her.

"These will be your actual weapons."

Summer eyed the weapons and then him with suspicion. "… They are not made out of biscuit and painted red, are they?"

"No, those work just fine and are made out of steel alloys."

Shooting him another distrustful look before relenting, Summer accepted and attached the weapons to her belt. Thankfully, she knew how to use both of them, at least the basics.

"Here, take these as well.", Kestrel presented her some cartridges which lay on his palm. With the curiosity of a child, Summer inspected them. Those things were weird. Unlike any round she had ever seen. The bullet itself was light brown and had a white tip.

"Skinny latte bullets. Nasty things."

After all the day's previous events, Summer did not even have it in her to retort or react in any way, shape or form. She just accepted the insanity as it came towards her and slapped her in the face. Not much else she could do, to be fair.

Mr. Harvest continued without a pause. "They have a three Gram cream core for the extra boom as well as a hardened DL penetrating tip to take care of those with thicker hides."

"DL?", she asked despite knowing better not to while slowly taking the offered rounds and then putting them in one of her pouches.

"Depleted lactosium.", he answered her with a straight face.

Yep, she definitely was going insane.

"… just point me in the right direction."

With a smile on his face he beckoned her to follow him.

When they stopped in front of the coffee maker at the very bottom of the path leading up to Bean Here and when he told her to rub its water tank to use it and that it would transport her to the correct place, the last of Summer's sense of normality died an ugly death.

* * *

 **This story is the perfect example for what strange things my brain comes up with when I write something and listen to anything -this time it was ENB playing Bloodborne- in the background. I had to write this to get the whole thing out of my head. It threatened to poison my higher faculties and now it shall poison yours.**

 **And always remember: Fear the cold coffee!**


End file.
